


Primal

by coveredbyroses



Series: Birthday Drabbles 2018 [19]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Purgatory, Thigh-Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 08:30:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16850653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredbyroses/pseuds/coveredbyroses
Summary: There’s something about him; something dark and primal and fierce.





	Primal

You can feel the drying blood caking on on your face as you plop to your ass, lean back up against the tree until you can feel the rough bark poking through your shirt and jacket. Your heart pounds as you suck in deep lungfuls of air. You close your eyes.

When you open them, you see  _him_. He’s squatting across the stream, elbows perched on his knees as he scoops up the water, splashes it up and into his face. He looks up.

And you freeze.

You don’t know who is, why he’s here—but he’s human. You know that much.

But there’s something about him; something dark and primal and  _fierce_. The way he hunts—he  _preys_  on these monsters. He scares you as much as they do.

He’s never said a word to you. But the way he just  _looks_  at you; like he wants to eat you right up. It makes you hot and cold at the same time, knots up your gut.

You look down, pick at the rusted blood dried dirt under your nails. When you look back up, he’s gone.

You make your way down the winding dirt path toward your makeshift campsite; there’s no real way to rest here, not unless you group up and sleep in shifts, but groups attract blitzes. So you work alone. Always have anyway, even before…

Your campsite consists of a canopy of tree branches you’d stacked and arranged to keep you out of sight, your bed the soft dirt of the forest floor.

You crouch down, go to crawl into the shallow cavern of twigs and tree limbs—

When you see a heap of canvas and denim curled up into the soil.

“Hey!” you bark, blood simmering hot.

There’s a grunt, a low muttering and then the trespasser is sitting up—

It’s him.

Fuck. You’ve already started this, stay strong.

“You—you can’t sleep here.”

Smooth.

He looks up. “Says who?” Shit, his voice is  _deep_.

“Me,” you say, lifting your chin in spur-of-the-moment confidence.

He grins, full lips pulling back to reveal stark-white teeth.

“That right?”

“It is.”

He lets his green eyes rove over the length of you, catching on your chest.

He moves forward, gets on his hands and knees and  _slowly_  crawls toward you. You fall back, right on your ass. You plant your feet against the ground,  _shove_  yourself backwards—

But god, the he’s crawling fast, slithering right up and over you, caging you inside his big arms.

His head looms over you, blotting out the grey of the sky.

“Maybe we can share…”

Oh god.

“Please,” you whisper. “Don’t—please, just don’t…”

“You’re scared of me.” He smiles a little at the realization, eyes glint with a hint of mirth.

Before you can even think of a response, the man is closing the distance between you, running dirt-streaked fingers through your hair as he crushes his lips to yours.

You gasp at the shock of it, and he seizes the opportunity, plunges his tongue into your mouth, licking over yours as he deepens the kiss.

He shoves a finger-splayed hand under your back, arches you up into him, and then he’s heaving you up—your brain going a little fuzzy at the sudden motion.

He’s on his knees, ass to his haunches, with a tight grip at your hip. He shifts you so that you’re straddling the hard muscle of his thigh, your breasts mashed right up against his throat, hands clutching at his shoulders.

You look down at his face, really look––splotches of fresh dirt mingle with constellations of freckles, making his jade eyes pop. His lips are ruddy and kiss-swollen, and  _god_ , you just want to dive right back in—

But then he’s tightening his already-iron grip on your waist, pulling you up the denim-clad length of his thigh—

 _Shit_ , the friction is mouth-watering, the way it shoves the hard seam of your jeans right into your clit…

He’s got both hands on your hips now, uses them to move you back and forth over the hard line of trained muscle.

You’re orgasm blindsides you, rolls through you from out of nowhere––god, it’s been so long…

He smoothes his hands up your back, under your jacket as you come down, as your head drops to the warm crook of his neck.

His eyes are bright when you pull back, his smile easy.

“Hey,” he rumbles. “Name’s Dean.”


End file.
